


From Wiser Words We Draw a Conclusion

by TheUnassumingDoctor



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Brotherly Bonding, Champagne, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Mrs. Hudson ships them the hardest, Sherlock is actually nice, features both somewhat equally, mystrade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-08
Updated: 2015-03-08
Packaged: 2018-03-16 21:36:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3503624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheUnassumingDoctor/pseuds/TheUnassumingDoctor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock and John host a small party to celebrate some good news. Sherlock gives Lestrade some advice about how to deal with Mycroft Holmes.  </p><p>“Lestrade, if there is one trait that is most dominant in us, it is that my brother and I are possessive. We grab things and we never let go. Which is why, I find it, we are so often hesitant to reach.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	From Wiser Words We Draw a Conclusion

**Author's Note:**

> Hello readers! This is my first time writing Mystrade so be easy. As always I love comments. Anything to help improve my writing is always welcome!

Everyone was invited to gather at Baker Street after reading a text from John that simply said “Baker Street, come now.” Naturally this text came from Sherlock, not John. So, when John picked up the phone to send his own form of the text, he was surprised to find the shorter version already sitting in the sent box. After reading Sherlock’s text he decided to send one that was a bit more pleasant and a little less demanding. “We would like to invite everyone to come to Baker Street around 7 o’clock tonight.” After rereading the text he added “Ps. Ignore that last text, it was from Sherlock.” Satisfied he hit send. After receiving texts stating that they will be there, John began cleaning the flat. Seven o’clock was only half an hour away and he knew Sherlock wasn’t going to help him clean.

Twenty minutes later John was scrubbing the last of Sherlock’s experiment off the walls of the kitchen and boiling the kettle for tea. He hear the front door open and Sherlock’s footsteps dart up the stairs and enter into the kitchen. 

“I picked us up a few things for tonight.” Sherlock set the paper bag on the counter and John peaked over the edge and gazed at the view awaiting him.

“Champagne? Y-You went to the store? Without me having to force you?”

“Honestly, John, you do remember that I lived by myself for quite some time before you showed up,“ he replied with a roll of his eyes before adding, “you deemed tonight special and I will make sure it is.”

“I knew there was a reason I loved you.” John replied with a silvery tone before pulling the detective in for a kiss. The kiss soon turned from a sweet brush on lips to a hungry passion. The two broke apart when the need for air became too much and stood with their heads pressed together, calming their lungs. They pressed back together for another round when a throat cleared from the doorway.

“I hope you didn’t invite everyone here to watch you two snog like teenagers.” Greg Lestrade chuckled from the door.

“If that is the case I will be making my leave.” Injected Mycroft twirling his umbrella absently beside him.

John’s cheeks tinted red in embarrassment at being caught, while Sherlock looked annoyed at their disturbance. “No, no that’s not why we asked you here. We do have a reason,” John glanced at Mycroft who was nodding in agreement, “Mycroft, you are not allowed to ruin the surprise so keep your mouth shut.” 

Mycroft balked at John’s frank words before his ice persona slid back into place, shutting him off from any emotions. Lestrade simply rolled his eyes at being let out of the conversation. Sherlock cast a smug look at his brother and a proud one to his doctor. Mycroft returned Sherlock’s glare and the brothers looked a step away from letting the silent argument burst forth into words. Luckily they were interrupted by Molly and Sally Donovan entering the room unaware of the previous comments. Following the two girls, Mike Stamford trotted up the stairs talking to a chatty Mrs. Hudson. 

John broke away from the group and retreated back to the kitchen to pour the champagne. Leaving everyone to find common ground amongst themselves, preferably without a fight. John sighed. He could already see how the night was going to turn out. Warm arms slipped around his waist pulling John close. Sherlock placed a small kiss above John’s ear before whispering, “I could get rid of them. We could have this night to ourselves.”

“Nice try Sherlock. We are doing this today, right now in fact.” John broke free of Sherlock’s grasp and grabbed four of the flutes of champagne, leaving Sherlock to grab the other four. Following John into the sitting room, he spotted Lestrade and Mycroft talking near the bookcase.

“Talking about me?”

“No, brother mine, not everything is about you.”

“Isn’t it?”

“Not at all. This may come as a shock, Sherlock, but the world does not, in fact, rotate around your very existence.”

“Alright! That’s enough. Drop it.” Lestrade pushed himself between the brothers and held them back with a hand upon each chest. 

“Right, of course. I apologize.” Mycroft stated quickly.

Sherlock cocked an eyebrow at his brother, reading each detail about him. His eyes snapped to Mycroft’s as the clues led up to the deduction. “Well, brother, it seems you have fallen into the same trap as I.” Sherlock stated quietly. “Does this mean you have finally changed your mind?”

“Perhaps I have, however, I do not know if I could follow the same path you have taken.”

“It’s worth it.” Silently reading each other, Sherlock and Mycroft exchanged a nod.

Sherlock handed Mycroft the flute of champagne. A peace offering. A sign of understanding. A promise. And Mycroft took it.

Breaking from the trace they had entered into, the brothers became aware of the rooms silence and the eyes peering at them. Sherlock turned to Lestrade who realized his hand was still pressed to the older Holmes’ shirt and dropped it in embarrassment, his face flushing red. Sherlock handed him his flute and brought his and John’s over to where John was standing. Taking a swig of the bubbly concoction, Sherlock addressed the crowd. 

“Since I have your attention I might as well inform all of you why you are here.”

“Neither of you are dying, right? You’re not sick?” blurted out a nervous Molly. 

“What? No! We are both fine.” Reassured John. Taking a breath, John smiled at Sherlock. “We have good news. Sherlock and I are engaged. We are getting married.” 

Sherlock smiled back at John, marveling in the child-like joy bursting in his fiancé’s eyes. Glancing away only as a round of applause sounded in the room. Mrs. Hudson could be heard sniffling and crying from over by the sofa.

“John, why is she crying? She already knew we were engaged. We told her yesterday. She should control herself a little more.”

“Sherlock, behave. She is crying because she is happy for us. Let her be.” 

Sherlock eyed the swarm of people coming to congratulate him and John. As John was grabbed into a big hug by Molly, Sherlock decided he was going to hide in the kitchen. Catching Lestrade’s eye, Sherlock gestured him to follow. 

“Congrats Sherlock!” Lestrade trapped him in a hug and he tried to keep his squirming down to a minimum. 

“Hm, yes. However that is not what I wanted to talk about. I want to talk about you. And Mycroft.”

“What? Umm, there is not a lot to talk about there, Sherlock. I hardly know him.”

“Yet you seem quite fond of him.”

“Well, umm I-I don’t. What is this about Sherlock?”

“It is about the fact that you both are idiots.”

“Sherlock.” Lestrade set out a sigh.

“You are in love with my brother.”

Sherlock’s eyes set upon him like steel. Unwavering in their knowledge. Useless to argue, Lestrade looked away and said, “Yes.”

“Good. Now go and tell him.”

“What! Sherlock, no. I don’t think he does that sort of thing. He tends to push emotions away and you want me to walk up to him and tell him I love him? Are you crazy?”

“Lestrade, if there is one trait that is most dominant in us, it is that my brother and I are possessive. We grab things and we never let go. Which is why, I find it, we are so often hesitant to reach.” 

Sherlock looked out of the kitchen to the other side of the room where Mycroft and John were watching them carefully, unsure of what was being spoken.

“He is reaching Greg.” Turning back to face Lestrade he added, “And he is reaching to you.”

Leaving Lestrade in the kitchen, Sherlock walked over to John and Mycroft. “Go to him Myc. Tell him.” Sherlock grabbed John’s hand and headed straight into the awaiting crowd of congratulations. 

“Playing matchmaker are we?” John smiled at him before he shifted into an earnest expression, “Thank you.”

“For?”

“For playing nice and letting me have a party. And for finally helping those two see some sense. They were almost as bad as us. Pining for years, now they can be happy too.”

“If their wedding is on the same day as ours I am disowning him.” Sherlock vowed.

“I would expect nothing else.”

John grabbed Sherlock’s jacket labels and pulled him down. Meeting his lips, bringing back the breathless kiss from before. “I love you, Sherlock.”

“I love you too, John.” He replied though the kiss. “Forever.”

“Now boys, at least wait until we leave.” Scolded Mrs. Hudson.

“Can you walk quicker then?”

“Sherlock!” John yelled elbowing him in the ribs.

“What.” Sherlock mumbled. “You were thinking the same thing.”

“Be quiet or I’ll make you sleep on the floor.”

“That is not how you treat your One True Love, John.”

“Oh, shush you.”

Mrs. Hudson herded the guests out of the flat and shouted back up the stairs that she was going to spend a few days with her sister and not to worry about her. John chuckled at her implication and turned to make some tea and clean up. However, in the kitchen the last two guests were lost in deep conversation, completely unaware of their surroundings. 

“One house or the other but you can’t stay here.” Called out John, brushing past them to re-boil the water for tea. 

The two men looked at him, Mycroft with irritation at being interrupted and Lestrade with amusement. Mycroft rolled his eyes and stalked out of the flat, certain the inspector would follow. Which, of course, he did. 

It wouldn’t be until hours later, lying in bed with a warm body stretched out beside him that Lestrade thought over the events that led him here. The conversation with Sherlock. “He called me Greg.”

“That is your name.” came the sleepy reply.

“Sherlock never remembers my name. In all the years I have known him, never once has he called me by my name.”

“You are a part of the family now.”

“Family dinners with you two? Kill me now.” He teased. 

Pulling him close, they both drifted into a blissful sleep.

Back in Baker Street, John and Sherlock were pressed together locked in the dreamland.

I guess caring does have an advantage.


End file.
